


five times and counting

by lovereddie



Series: the road to discovering more [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Light dom/sub undertones, M/M, its hot yall, richie is a needy bottom, they fuck, you cant change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 02:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18327059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovereddie/pseuds/lovereddie
Summary: He still hasn’t decided how he wants to approach this, what to do first, so he simply settles a hand on Richie’s inner thigh, stroking a thumb over the sensitive skin there as he asks, “What do you want me to do, Richie?”“Me,” Richie gusts out instantly, wriggling his hips impatiently. “Do me. Please.”





	five times and counting

**Author's Note:**

> a series leading to intense bdsm? maybe  
> (i’ll fix the weird spacing later)

The moment Eddie walks into their apartment, he knows exactly what to expect.

 

From where he’s standing in the entryway, he can hear the shower running, the constant noise of water hitting the bottom of the bathtub a familiar sound to him. His fingers twitch at his sides, wanting to rush in there and get this started, but he takes his time, pulls off his jacket and kicks off his shoes, setting aside his keys and his phone and whatever else may be in his pockets. He even goes as far as to unbutton his jeans and toys with the hem of his shirt, considering taking it off now, but decides against it before making his way down the hall.

 

Unsurprisingly, the bathroom door is ajar, and when he pushes it open as quietly as possible, he finds that Richie has taken the initiative to push the shower curtains to the far left and is already putting himself on display, his back to the door, forehead pressed against the wall of the shower and one foot propped up on the edge of the bathtub. Eddie takes his time appreciating the view, eyes starting at Richie’s wet curls sticking to the back of his neck and skimming down his somewhat red skin, shimmering with the hot water that he’s been sitting under for who knows how long. The expanse of his back is well known territory, and Eddie doesn’t need to linger there for too long, already aware of the patternless smattering of freckles and moles there. He lowers his gaze even further, sinking his teeth into his lip.

 

God, how long as Richie been at this?

 

As of now, Richie is four fingers deep inside of himself, his wrist twisting in a way that looks borderline painful as he fucks into himself fast and quick, an absolutely brutal pace. Eddie wonders if Richie’s already cum once, wonders if he’s chasing after the over sensitive high that he loves so much. He can’t help but let out a wistful sort of sigh at the thought.

 

As soon as Richie hears it, he freezes.

 

“You seem busy,” Eddie says, taking a step further into the room and leaving the door wide open. It creates a sense of danger, despite them living alone — there’s an irrational fear of being caught, carried over from many years of having to sneak around as teenagers, and something about that rush is thrilling to them now, though they both kind of refuse to admit it outside of the heat of the moment.

 

Richie doesn’t move his fingers, but he does let out a strained chuckle and lift his shoulders in a shrug. “Got bored waiting for you to come home,” is all he manages to get out, voice so wrecked that it’s nearly a croak. Eddie grins to himself. Richie’s definitely already had at least one orgasm so far, maybe even more.

 

Taking a couple more steps forward, until he’s in touching distance of Richie’s figure, Eddie reaches forward and trails his fingertips across his shoulders. “Bored, huh?” Eddie questions, trying not to let his amusement pull out a chuckle. “That’s weird. You didn’t seem bored when you kept sending me pictures while I was at work.” He brings his hand down slowly, nails lightly scraping over the curve of Richie’s spine, only to stop at the dimples in the small of Richie’s back. His other hand shoots out, turns off the water, sending the bathroom into an eerie sort of silence that is only broken when Eddie breathes, “They were some very pretty pictures, I can’t deny that. You’ve been at it all day, haven’t you?”

 

The sound of Richie swallowing roughly is audible, loud. All he does is nod.

 

“That’s what I thought,” Eddie hums, lowers one of his hands even further while the other moves over to grasp onto Richie’s wrist, not so tight that it hurts him but enough so to be able to control whether or not it moves. Richie’s sucks in a harsh breath, lets it out with a shudder, the sound bouncing off the walls, Leaning forward, Eddie presses his lips to Richie’s shoulder in the same moment that he uses his grip on Richie’s wrist to guide his fingers into a steady, shallow rhythm, one that he knows won’t push Richie over the edge but will cause just enough stimulation to make his head spin. He presses the thumb of his other hand to Richie’s rim, not yet pushing inside but teasing the possibility of a further stretch. It’s this action that brings out the first shaky whimper of the night, and Eddie, with a smug little smirk, moves his mouth up until his lips are pressed to the shell of Richie’s ear to ask, “How many times have you cum today?”

 

“F-uck,” Richie hisses, pressing back to take his own fingers deeper, unintentionally pushing the tip of Eddie’s thumb past the ring of muscle, making his breath catch on an airy moan. Eddie just tsk’s, pulls his thumb out and stops Richie’s fingers from thrusting into him anymore, waiting patiently as Richie kind of slumps against the wall, breathing heavily. It takes a moment, but eventually he manages to get out, “F-Five. Five times.”

 

Brows rising slightly, Eddie clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and questions, “Only five? I find that hard to believe. If you’ve been at it all day, and it’s nearly seven at night, then I think it’s safe to say you’re lying to me.”

 

A shiver runs down Richie’s back, goosebumps forming along his skin. “‘m not lying.”

 

Eddie considers this, but he knows the lilt in Richie’s voice when he lies, so he knows that he’s telling the truth right now. Still, he gently tugs on Richie’s wrist, until all of Richie’s fingers have been removed from his hole. Richie lets out a whine at the loss, no doubt assuming that Eddie still thinks he’s lying, leading Eddie to quickly assure him, “I believe you, baby, I promise I do. We just need to get you out of the shower, dry you off before you freeze to death in here.” He rests his hands on Richie’s hips and gently holds him up as Richie nods and pushes himself off the wall, weak legs nearly giving out instantly, too shaky from all the stimulation. Thankfully, Eddie is ready for this, and is able to keep him from falling as he finds his footing again.

 

Then, for the first time since Eddie’s gotten home, Richie turns around and meets Eddie’s gaze. Oh, and what a sight he is, hair plastered to his forehead from both sweat and the water, blue eyes glazed over and plump lips bitten red. His skin is flushed and his expression is vulnerable, the twitch of his brows and wide open eyes that blink heavily as Eddie helps him step out of the bathtub and hands him a towel.

 

“Look at you,” Eddie murmurs, taking a step back and leaning against the bathroom counter, feeling a little weak in the knees himself at the sight of a clearly wrecked Richie, who instantly flickers his gaze to Eddie with such open desperation written on his features, but he doesn’t really respond, too submerged in his want to be able to voice his thoughts. Eddie can’t help but reach down and cup himself through his jeans, trying to relieve the ache in his groin as Richie’s eyes instantly drop to the tent in Eddie’s pants. His lips part around words that he can’t seem to get out, resulting in a weak sort of mewl instead, one that doesn’t help Eddie’s case in the slightest. God, he wants nothing more than to push Richie against the wall and take him apart right here, but he knows how Richie can get after stimulating himself this much in a single day, knows that he’s going to need to be treated a bit more carefully, gentle hands on soft skin. At least, that’s what he usually needs. Sometimes, Richie wants the ache, wants to be rough even after multiple climaxes and severe over stimulation.

 

Eddie supposes he’ll have to wait until they’re in the bedroom to find out which one Richie is going to want today.

 

It takes a few minutes for Richie to dry himself off to a satisfactory level, and even then Eddie finds himself using the towel himself to dry Richie’s hair even more, not wanting it to drip onto the bed and make the sheets or the pillows damp. By the end of it, Richie looks a little red and his hair is a bit fluffy, but Eddie thinks he looks absolutely beautiful, and makes sure to say as much. Richie flushes a little, but his eyes become lidded, always craving to hear praise and compliments from Eddie.

 

Eddie knows he’ll never get tired of telling Richie just how god damn pretty he is.

 

“Bedroom,” he instructs, the urge to drop to his knees here and now getting stronger with every moment that passes. Richie nods and instantly scampers away, down the hall and to their room. Eddie can hear the slight creak of the bed frame as Richie falls onto the mattress, and can barely bite back a grin at how eager his boyfriend is, how eager he always has been. Though, Eddie supposes he can’t blame him — there have been plenty of times where Eddie‘s been the submissive one in the bedroom, when he is just as eager and pliant and desperate for even the simplest of touch. And he knows it’s amplified for Richie, who feels touch starved if he goes more than twenty-four hours without a hug or a kiss. He knows that Richie is just more sensitive to touch than he is.

 

He thinks about this as he leisurely strolls after Richie, thinks about how easy it is for him to make Richie a whimpering mess. He thinks about what he wants to do tonight. God, so many things that he wants to do...

 

When he steps into their room, he finds that Richie is on his back and has already spread his legs desperately, though he has his hands clenched at his sides, gripping the sheets in his fists to try and resist the urge to touch himself. Eddie wants to take a picture of him, but he doesn’t, instead just trailing closer to the bed and scanning his eyes over Richie’s body with a light hum. He still hasn’t decided how he wants to approach this, what to do first, so he simply settles a hand on Richie’s inner thigh, stroking a thumb over the sensitive skin there as he asks, “What do you want me to do, Richie?”

 

“Me,” Richie gusts out instantly, wriggling his hips impatiently. “Do me. Please.”

 

Eddie lets out a light laugh at that, resting his other hand on Richie’s other thigh, pushing his legs further apart. “Really? That’s all you want?” he asks with a shake of his head. “No toys? No teasing? No build up?”

 

The groan that Richie lets out is absolutely obscene, low and gravelly and rough. “I’ve been building up to this all day,” he whines, gripping onto Eddie’s wrists and staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I just want you.”

 

An idea springs to Eddie’s mind, a devious little plan. He squeezes both of Richie’s thighs gently, watches the muscles jump, and asks him, “How have you gotten yourself off today?”

 

“What?” Richie asks, nose scrunching in confusion. Cute, Eddie thinks.

 

“You’ve cum five times since I left for work this morning,” Eddie says, giving Richie an expectant look, leading him to nod his confirmation. “I want to know how. The pictures you sent were pretty, but they didn’t really tell me what you were doing. I wanna know what you did to get yourself off.”

 

Richie’s lips drop into a small o, understanding crossing his features. He averts his gaze to the ceiling, and that’s something Eddie will never get used to, how oddly quiet and timid Richie can be when he’s in a more submissive mindset. When he’s the top, he never shuts up, lives up to his title of trashmouth with filthy words and dirty whispers, but when he’s told to speak while bottoming? Eddie’s surprised he’s gotten this much out of him. He usually doesn’t start babbling until he’s starting to near a climax, and even then it’s mostly incoherent noises and unclear attempts at pleading for more.

 

Shuffling closer, kneeling onto the bed, Eddie places a finger to the underside of Richie’s jaw and guides his gaze back to him. “Use your words, love,” Eddie murmurs. “When you woke up, what’s the first thing you did to cum?”

 

“I, uh—” Richie stops, tries to duck his head only to be stopped by Eddie’s hold on him. Still, he looks away, bites his lower lip, and then meekly answers, “Pillow. I... used the pillow.”

 

Oh, and if that isn’t a stunning image, Eddie doesn’t know what is. He almost lets out a groan at the mere idea of it, but manages to swallow it back as he ducks his head and presses a sweet kiss to Richie’s lips, telling him, “Thank you for being honest with me,” when he pulls away. Richie’s face warms at the praise, lips tugging up into a grin. Stepping back, Eddie gestures to the pillows placed at the head of the bed and says, “Get to it, then.”

 

Richie blinks, looks to the pillows, and looks back to Eddie. “I... I don’t understand...”

 

“Everything you did to get off while I was gone, you’re gonna do again,” Eddie explains, pulling his shirt off and tossing it towards the hamper by the door as he talks. “Only, this time, you don’t get to cum five times. You only get to cum once, when I’m inside you. Okay?”

 

The look that crosses Richie’s face is almost devastating, his features crumbling into a pout that almost makes Eddie change his mind, the urge to climb on top of Richie to give him exactly what he wants growing even stronger. “But...” Richie trails off, turning his gaze back to the pillows, even going as far as to close his legs, press his knees together and essentially curl into himself. “It’s... It’s embarrassing.”

 

Eddie lets out a strange little noise of protest, rounds the bed to stand closer to Richie’s head so that he can stroke his hands through Richie’s still-damp curls. “It’s beautiful, baby,” Eddie tells him sincerely. “Seeing you get yourself off like that... it’s stunning. I want to see it, if you’re okay with showing me.”

 

This is Richie’s invitation to turn down Eddie’s idea, to say no and change the course of the night. He knows that Eddie won’t be upset or disappointed, because at least half the time, when Eddie brings up this out, he does end up taking it, suggesting a different idea or saying that he doesn’t want to do anything other than some normal, wonderfully vanilla sex. But Richie isn’t actually against this, despite feeling timid about it, so when Eddie offers him this out, he lets out a shaky breath and nods, murmuring, “I’m okay with it. I’m just... I’m just nervous, I guess. I’ve never... you know?”

 

“Humped a pillow in front of me?” Eddie offers, making Richie flush. God, it’s never what he expects, but Eddie has to say, he loves the odd feeling of power he gets when Richie’s like this, in his submissive mindset and getting flustered by the simplest things. Despite looking so on edge by Eddie’s choice of wording, Richie just nods, and Eddie can’t help but coo, “Baby, you know how much I love to watch you. What makes you think I wouldn’t love to watch this? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

 

Slowly, after sucking in a deep breath, Richie nods again. “Okay,” he says, letting out the breath and carefully pushing himself into a sitting position. He looks at Eddie for a moment, who removes his hands from Richie’s hair and takes a step back before nodding encouragingly at him, and then he clambers up to his knees. “Okay,” he repeats, this time softer as he reaches back and picks up one of the pillows they have, still looking a bit timid and unsure even as he positions it beneath him and straddles it with his thighs.

 

At first, he doesn’t move, just looks to Eddie again, seeking some form of approval for what he’s done so far. Eddie is already shoving his pants down his legs and kicking them off, hardened dick an obvious bulge in his black boxer briefs, and instantly breathes out, “You already look so good, baby. Keep going.”

 

Richie whimpers at the sight of Eddie, and he doesn’t even really mean to do it when he starts to grind his hips into the pillow, is only reflexively trying to feel some sort of friction, but it’s that first unintentional pulse against the fabric of the pillow case that makes his uncertainties melt away, as the feeling of the cloth rubbing against his cock is enough to make his jaw drop in a gasp.

 

“God,” Eddie groans, shoving his hand in his boxers unceremoniously as he watches as Richie instantly throws caution to the wind, his hips snapping forward and back against the pillow as he plants his hands on the sheets in front of him, leaning forward for an angle that’s more desirable. Eddie grips himself, bites back a strangled sort of noise, and says, “I love seeing you like this. Love seeing you so desperate that you’ll do anything to feel good.”

 

“Eddie,” Richie whines, though his head hangs between his shoulders, breathing already a little heavy. When he hears a shaky exhale come from Eddie, he snaps his head up and sees that Eddie is touching himself, and he lets out a loud, lewd moan. “Oh, f-fuck.”

 

Eddie can tell that Richie’s not going to last very long, knows that being so over sensitive after multiple orgasms will bring him to the edge much sooner than normal, so he isn’t surprised when, only a couple minutes into this, he starts seeing the signs of Richie getting close. It starts with his sound, volume rising and curses falling faster and messier from his parted lips. Then his actions get sloppy, thrusts against the pillow getting faster, shallower, thighs visibly trembling. Then, Eddie’s favorite part, his features start to crumble into a look so openly fucked-out and wrecked that Eddie swears it belongs on the cover of a top quality porno magazine. And then, just as Richie’s words turn into breathless panting and high pitched noises — the last sign before he finally releases — Eddie steps in, places a hand on Richie’s shoulder, and firmly tells him, “Stop.”

 

He does, hips stilling instantly, but the noise he lets out is pitiful, a mix of a groan and a sob pushing past his lips as he flutters his eyes open and stares up at Eddie with a slightly wobbly lower lip. “Eddie, please, I—”

 

“The second time you came,” Eddie interrupts, keeping his tone somewhat strict, but not to the point that Richie might think he’s done something wrong. “What did you do?”

 

Richie sinks his teeth into his lower lip, clutches the sheets in his grip and gives himself a moment to breathe. Then, voice a bit airy and weak, he answers, “I did this, and then I fell back asleep, and then I did this again.”

 

“Okay.” Eddie tugs at his dick, just once, to relieve the aching need to be touched. He offers Richie a sickeningly sweet smile that clearly spells trouble. “Then do it again.”

 

“Eds, please—”

 

Eddie shakes his head, clicks his tongue. “If you want this to stop, you know how to make it stop. If not, then do as I say. Go again.”

 

If Richie loves to be praised, he absolutely adores being told what to do, being given the chance to please and earn the compliments he craves so much. That’s why, despite wanting to beg Eddie to just skip all this teasing and get right to the good part, he winds up biting back his pleading and instead does as instructed. This time, he doesn’t immediately jump into a vigorous pace, instead starts slower, fucking his hips down into the pillow with precision and intent, drawing out long winded groans and hitches in his breath. He picks up the speed quickly, even drops down on to his elbows to get better friction, and winds up burying his face against the sheets to muffle himself as the base of his spine tingles and the pit of his stomach starts to swell with heat. He knows he’s going to get cut off before he cums, tries to prepare himself for the inevitable interruption, but that doesn’t do anything to stop a few tears from trickling from the corner of his eyes when Eddie’s hand settles on the small of his back as a silent instruction to stop.

 

“You’re so good,” Eddie practically purrs, his approval loud and clear in his voice when Richie instantly halts his movements, panting helplessly and barely resisting the urge to keep rutting against the pillow. “Roll over for me, baby. I wanna see your face, okay?”

 

“‘kay,” Richie mumbles, weakly pushing off the mattress and rolling onto his back, keeping his legs parted and open in a silent invitation for Eddie. But Eddie just stands there, one hand resting on Richie’s knee, and soaks in the sight of him with dark eyes, taking in every inch of Richie, from his still slightly damp curls to his red cheeks and his sweat-slick skin and his flushed cock and his soft thighs. Richie shifts under Eddie’s gaze, his heart picking up speed in his chest. He loves being the center of Eddie’s attention, loves when Eddie looks at him like this, but he never knows what to do about it, if he should say something or not.

 

Eddie beats him do it, breathing out, “You look so fucking besutiful,” as he trails his hand from Richie’s knee, up his leg, stopping right where thigh meets pelvis and lingering there. It looks like Eddie’s in a daze, almost, and it takes him a moment before he remembers what they’re doing and he manages to say, “The third time.”

 

Silently, Richie’s eyes slide from Eddie, landing on their closed closet door. That’s all the answer he needs to give, understanding already blooming in Eddie’s chest.

 

“A toy, huh?” Eddie chuckles darkly, presses his thumb down lightly on Richie’s sensitive skin, feeling as the muscles clench and unclench beneath his touch. “Which one?”

 

“The blue one,” Richie tells him softly, voice hoarse with the anticipation and exertion. “Twice. Once on me, and once... in me.”

 

Eddie feels his breath catch and leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss to Richie’s inner thigh before backing away and swinging open their closet door. The blue one, as Richie had called it, is the one that Richie loves the most but only uses on occasion. It’s a vibrator, not a very big one, but definitely a powerful one, and Richie definitely prefers power over the size. After taking the toy from their little shoebox of various other toys, Eddie makes his way back to the bed, kneeling against it and taking Richie’s cock in hand, the vibrator pressed to the sensitive skin beneath the head. Instantly, Richie gasps, back arching and a whine bubbling in the back of his throat. Eddie uses his free hand to rub soothing patterns on Richie’s leg, stomach, anywhere that will relax him, and in a low voice, he asks, “Is this what you mean by on you? You used it like this?”

 

Richie nods, sucks in a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah.”

 

Without a word, Eddie turns the vibrator on.

 

“Fuck!” Richie yelps, his jaw dropping and his hands scrambling for purchase, gripping onto the bed, the pillows, Eddie, anything in reach. He winds up settling both his hands on Eddie’s wrist, fingers wrapped around it and lightly digging his nails into the skin there, his head thrown back and his back arching off the bed. Eddie watches in awe, knowing that Richie’s every nerve must be on fire, so sensitive and ready to hit his peak. He also knows how much Richie loves it — no matter how much he wants to release, he loves this type of build up, loves it when he can feel every little thing, all of his senses heightened. He’s whispered it in Eddie’s ear on many occasions.

 

With that thought in mind, Eddie trails his other hand from Richie’s thigh, past his cock, and down to his hole, which is still thoroughly stretched out and lubed up from Richie fingering himself in the shower. Richie’s breath hitches as Eddie pushes in a single digit, not enough to really get him places, but enough to put the idea in his head. “Talk to me,” Eddie says. “Tell me how you’re feeling, baby.”

 

“God,” Richie groans, his hips twitching, like he can’t decide if he wants to push them towards the vibrator and Eddie’s finger or away. “Fucking- shit! I- ah- I feel so good, but- but I need you, Eds, puh-lease—”

 

“I’m right here,” Eddie soothes him, adding a second finger and crooking them, knowing exactly where to find Richie’s prostate and pressing ruthlessly against it, a stark contrast between his actions and his words. He turns the vibrator up to a higher setting and watches as a shudder wracks Richie’s body, his stomach clenching and his muscles tightening. Trying not to sound as smug as he feels, Eddie murmurs to him, “I’ve got you, love.”

 

Richie’s lower lip starts to wobble, his eyes squeezing shut and a few tears slipping out. It’s not irregular for Richie to cry during sex, so, while Eddie does feel that same twinge of worry that he always feels when it happens, he doesn’t think too much of it until Richie is heaving in a deep breath and whimpering, “Eddie, I- I want you, please, just—”

 

His voice sounds too genuinely distressed when he says it, leading Eddie to immediately withdraw the vibrator, turn it off, and toss it carelessly to the other side of the bed to be put away later. He pulls out his fingers, wipes them off on the duvet, and then instantly crawls on the bed to pull Richie onto his lap, softly murmuring, “Talk to me, angel.”

 

Richie sort of sags against Eddie, presses his face to Eddie’s neck. “I just want you,” he says again, this time in a whisper, as he maneuvers his legs until he’s able to straddle Eddie and press their pelvis’s together, letting out a shaky breath at the friction. “I don’t want the toys or the teasing. Just you. Please?” He punctuates the plea with a roll of his hips, making Eddie’s mouth go dry at the friction.

 

“Okay,” Eddie says, one hand brushing through Richie’s hair and the other one trailing up and down Richie’s side. “No more toys, no more teasing. Whatever you want, baby.”

 

The shaky sigh that Richie lets out is on of pure relief, and he has a dopey little smile on his face as Eddie carefully lowers Richie back onto the bed, still on his back, and quickly kicks off his boxers before crawling on top of him, caging him in with his hands planted on either side of Richie’s head to hold himself up. Already looking much more content than he had a moment before, he turns his head and presses a kiss to Eddie’s left wrist, blinking up at him with wide eyes and murmuring, “This is exactly what I want.”

 

Pretending that his arms aren’t a little weak from the sight of Richie, Eddie drops down to his elbows and seals Richie’s lips with a kiss, nudging his legs further apart with his knee, until he’s safely cradled between his thighs and able softly rut their hips together, just enough to create a high pitched whimper in the back of Richie’s throat. Breaking the kiss, Eddie trails a thumb across Richie’s lower lip and breathily asks him, “Do you think you’re stretched enough, or should I make sure?”

 

“I’m good,” Richie tells him, staring up at him with fond adoration, wiggling his hips impatiently and sinking his teeth into his lower lip when it wobbles some more. In a somewhat shaky voice, he says, “I- I’ve just been waiting for you to get home, ‘cause I need you, baby. I can- I can cum by myself, sure, but it’s never the same as when I’m with you, when you make me cum, and I feel so fucking pent up and I just- I just want you, and I don’t want to wait, I don’t think I can wait anymore—”

 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie interrupts, voice calm and soothing, wiping away the tears falling down Richie’s flushed cheeks. Reaching one hand down to line himself up with Richie’s eagerly awaiting hole, he promises, “No more waiting,” and slowly starts to push in.

 

Another shudder wracks Richie’s body, his back arching off the bed and one hand shooting up to grip onto Eddie’s wrist while the other tangles itself in the sheets. He doesn’t say anything, can’t seem to find the words, lost somewhere on the back of his tongue, but he lets out a broken sort of moan, mouth dropping open and breaths already coming out in little pants of air that make chest rise and fall rapidly.

 

Eddie doesn’t go too slow, knowing that Richie is not going to appreciate him drawing this out, but he makes sure to inch himself in at a pace that won’t be too sudden or overwhelming, tracing shapes into Richie’s jaw and hoarsely telling me, “You’re so fucking perfect, Rich, you know that? So good, so pretty...”

 

The moan that Richie lets out this time is a bit breathier and more desperate, his eyelids fluttering shut as Eddie grazes over his prostate when he bottoms out. Tightening his grip on Eddie’s arm, nails kind of biting the skin there, he chokes out, “I l-love you.”

 

And, just like that, Eddie sets up a pace that’s almost as brutal as the one Richie was using while fingering himself in the shower.

 

“Fuck!” Richie practically shouts, gasping deeply and nodding his head in some kind of silent encouragement, stomach muscles trembling with every breath and thighs aching deliciously as he hooks his knees over Eddie’s waist, legs locking at the ankles behind his back and effectively making his thrusts deeper. Whimpering in a way that sounds almost pitiful, Richie wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, their noses brushing together as he whines out, “Eds, baby, please.”

 

Though he doesn’t specify what he’s asking for, Eddie does his best to deliver, nosing at Richie’s jaw and latching his lips on the most sensitive part of his neck, scraping his teeth over the spot repeating and quickening the snap of his hips. Seeing Richie like this, already clearly close to the edge, makes his own orgasm bubble in his gut, hot and begging to be released. He refuses to cum first, though, and he knows that Richie is mere moments away, so he pulls back from his ministrations on Richie’s neck, pausing briefly to admire his work as the mark glistens under the light, and he digs his fingers in Richie’s hair to tug on it lightly as he husks out, “Come on, love. Let go.”

 

Releasing a hoarse little shout, Richie does, cumming in between them in white hot streams, his body shaking through his release. It takes little to no time for Eddie to follow after, hips stilling as he buries himself in as deep as he can and spills inside of Richie, drawing out yet another weak moan from Richie at the feeling of Eddie’s cum pulsing inside of him. He stays like that for a moment, catching his breath, before he goes to pull out, only for Richie to grip his shoulder and shake his head, hoarsely murmuring, “Stay.”

 

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie tells him, though he knows what Richie really means, knows that he often finds comfort in being attached like this for as long as possible. Brushing his fingers through Richie’s sweat damp hair, Eddie reminds him, “You know this’ll just feel kind of gross and sticky in the morning, right?”

 

“I know,” Richie sighs, content and happy as Eddie settles over him again, making no move to get up and separate them. “Neither of us work tomorrow, so I don’t care.”

 

Letting out a little chuckle, Eddie shuffles slightly, mumbling out little apologies when it causes him to shift inside of Richie and draws out a little whine. Then, as quickly and as smoothly as possible, he rolls them over until he’s on his back and Richie is laying on top of him, sucking in a sharp breath as Eddie grazes his prostate again. Eddie waits until Richie has settled, his cheek to Eddie’s shoulder and nose pressed against the underside of Eddie’s jaw, and then he softly tells him, “I love you, too, by the way. Since I didn’t say it back before.”

 

He can feel as Richie presses a grin against his skin, though neither of them say anything else, finding no real reason to, instead of lulling off to sleep in each other’s arms.


End file.
